


2 A.M.

by equivalent_exchange



Category: The Mandalorian (TV)
Genre: Angst and Romance, Angst and Tragedy, Character Death, F/M, Grief/Mourning
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-01
Updated: 2020-04-01
Packaged: 2021-03-01 01:27:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,494
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23426983
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/equivalent_exchange/pseuds/equivalent_exchange
Summary: A week ago, he couldn’t wait to bring his family home, to begin this new part of their lives together.It never occurred to him, that he could lose half of himself along the way.
Relationships: Baby Yoda & The Mandalorian (The Mandalorian TV), Cara Dune & The Mandalorian (The Mandalorian TV), Cara Dune/The Mandalorian (The Mandalorian TV)
Comments: 9
Kudos: 36





	2 A.M.

**Author's Note:**

> Dedicated to anyone who's ever lost someone they loved, and knows how difficult it is to pick yourself back up.
> 
> This is very, very heavy on feelings of loss and mourning, if you're not comfortable with that, please read with caution.

Din cradles his daughter to his chest as tightly as he dares, burying his face in the soft dark wisps of her hair, breathing in her scent. His eyes are shut tight as he focuses all his attention on the shallow puffs of breath in his ear.

With a heavy swallow and choke, he fails to keep his tears at bay as they stream down his face in an unending cascade.

The mixture of emotions in his heart is a brutal storm he can no longer contain. That by some miracle, some twist of fate, his baby girl wasn’t taken from him either.

She is perfect and healthy, and so, so beautiful. He can see it already, she’s the spitting image of Cara, and his heart shatters at the reminder.

His daughter will never know her mother.

\----

He holds his baby girl to his chest as they make their way back to the Razor Crest, back home. She sleeps soundly, wrapped in a sling tied to his torso while his son follows close behind in his floating carrier. Neither understanding that they will return home a family of three instead of four.

The metal box tucked in Din’s arm is small in size, and unnervingly light. He thinks bitterly, that for all that she is in life, _was,_ this is what Cara is reduced to.

A week ago, he couldn’t wait to bring his family home, to begin this new part of their lives together.

It never occurred to him, that he could lose half of himself along the way.

\----

As the ramp closes behind them, Din takes in the site before him, the living space on the ship is small, but comfortable.

It took some time to save enough credits to be able to afford what they needed, to prepare for the baby, for their expanding family, but they had managed. A bed big enough for the four of them tucked in one corner, crib and changing table against one wall, a traditional rocking chair against another, small makeshift dining table next to the galley.

He stands in the middle of what was supposed to be their life together, the box in his arm now a weight so heavy he doesn’t think he can bear it.

With a trembling hand, he places it, places _her_ , on a high shelf above the galley.

Taking a step back, he stares at how out of place it is amongst everything they’ve accumulated over the years. Little trinkets and mementos from their time together - a small wooden carving of a cat that reminded her of childhood pet, an old book of children’s stories, a ragdoll dressed in a red hooded robe, and even the dusty unopened bottle of Alderaanian whiskey.

A quiet cry and squirm against his chest bring his attention back to his daughter. He makes a calm rocking motion as he carefully walks to the crib and places her in the middle, tucking the blanket tight.

Bringing his hands to his helmet, he removes the metal and places it on the small table next to the crib. He glances down to his leg where his son is tugging gently on his boot, arms raising when he notices his father looking down to him. With a soft grunt, the Mandalorian bends down and lifts his son to one arm, placing a quiet kiss on his head as they turn, looking to the newest addition to their family.

His son’s long green ears perk up in curiosity, big round eyes study his sister, as if seeing something only he can.

With a soft coo, he turns back to his father, ears beginning to droop as he surveys the room, searching for Cara. He understands there is someone new with them, but also knows that someone is missing, he sounds a small cry when his mother is nowhere to be found.

\----

He tries to develop a normal routine, to keep himself busy and from thinking too much of Cara, but he’s learning the hard way, that with a newborn baby and another that has magic hands, there was no such thing as a normal routine.

Slowly rocking back in forth in his chair, Din cradles his children against his bare chest, one in each arm, as he tries to put them to sleep. He whispers the tales of his people, of the Mandalorians and other fearsome fighters, and how he knows someday, they will be great warriors like their mother.

\----

Din is tired, so, so tired.

His body aches and drags, and he feels every bit of what his years of bounty hunting has done to him. He finds it difficult to believe it’s only been a few months since she was born, and he isn’t sure how he can keep doing this. He wasn’t supposed to do this alone; this wasn’t the plan.

It’s sometime during the late night when he can finally retire to bed, the mess of magically thrown food scrubbed clean from the floor and spit stained clothes soaking in the sink to be washed later.

He is asleep as soon as his head hits the pillow.

That night he dreams, a wonderful and heart wrenching dream of what their lives could be if Cara was still with them.

_He can feel her warmth pressed against his chest as they watch a green head with long ears quickly waddle across a patch of grass chasing a bug, his laughter echoing as it flies just out his reach. Their baby girl asleep, cradled in her mother’s strong arms as she leans back against him, sitting comfortably between his legs as he rests against the trunk of a tree, his own arms wrapped around her waist._

_Resting his chin on the woman’s shoulder, he peers down to watch his little girl snoozing happily, basking in the warmth of the sun. Squeezing the woman in his arms tighter, he presses kisses to her neck, whispering words of love and praise, his chest nearly bursting from the sheer happiness radiating from his being._

_She turns, looking to him, those dark piercing eyes that can see straight into his soul are so full of love that he can’t help the tears that run down his cheeks._

_With a warm smile, he leans forward to capture her lips in his, moving against each other tenderly, slowly, as if they had all the time in the world to enjoy this._

_They break apart with a soft sigh, and he rests his head against hers, closes his eyes and breathes._

Din’s eyes fly open, he wakes to find his heart hammering in his chest, the taste of salt on his tongue, his pillow soaked from the tears still falling in heavy streams, and his hand clutching the cold sheets of Cara’s side of the bed. He screws his eyes shut, begging for his dream to take him back, to let him be with her again, even if only for a moment more.

The cold reality hits him like a blaster bolt to the gut.

_She’s gone._

She’s gone, and he has to pick up the pieces left behind and build something new, if not for him, for her and their children.

He chokes back the sob threatening to spill from his throat with a heavy breath. Before he knows it, he’s jumping from their bed and sprinting to fresher, he thinks he trips on a stray toy left on the floor, he’s not quite sure. Quickly shutting the door behind him, his knees crash to the floor with such force he knows they’ll bruise, leaning over the vac tube, he heaves and heaves, tears falling and mixing with the regurgitated contents of his stomach.

When there’s nothing left, he undresses and turns on the shower, twists the knob to its hottest setting, and steps under the burning spray.

The heat from the water turns his skin an angry red, but the pain he feels from this is nothing compared to the raging storm in his heart and mind. He braces his hands against the wall, his fingers curling, trying to grasp onto anything to keep him standing against the onslaught of grief.

It’s as if he’s standing alone on a seashore, he can see the lightning crash in the distance, illuminating the sky in brilliant flashes of white, listening as the rolling thunder cries out, the water rising higher and higher. The storm is approaching, coming closer and closer, but he can’t run, he doesn’t have the strength, not anymore.

Maybe he’s been running long enough.

The waves finally crash over him, pulling him from his feet and dragging him down into its dark depths. His arms and legs feel like lead, and he’s sinking deeper and deeper, his lungs burning as they fill with water.

He knows how to swim, he just needs to remember how, moving his arms and legs, he hopes he can make it back to shore alive.

**Author's Note:**

> This is very different from my usual writing, and I wanted to get a feel for it, to get back into the writing mood, so to speak.
> 
> Thanks for reading! Hope you've enjoyed, and as always, feedback is appreciated!
> 
> I have not abandoned Stories of Home, if anyone is wondering (probably not a lot of you...😂), real life got in the way, but I'm slowly making my way back.
> 
> Come say hi to me on [ Tumblr ](https://flipredmonkey.tumblr.com)


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